


at the end (hand in hand)

by Moonstone_Kat



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (past) - Freeform, (the character) - Freeform, /rp, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Blood, Child Neglect, Death, Doomsday, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Language, Panic Attacks, Past manipulation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Roleplay, Swearing, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has PTSD, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo is Not Okay, TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit Swears (Video Blogging RPF), Video Game Mechanics, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstone_Kat/pseuds/Moonstone_Kat
Summary: The heavily enchanted, netherite sword slides back out of his diamond chestplate.Technoblade pulls back, a sharp grin on his face. And then Technoblade is gone and Tubbo’s seeing the sky. And then Tommy is there, pulling him close, tears streaming from his face. That isn't right. Tommy never cries. Who made Tommy cry?"Tubbo. Say something, Tubbo, please," Tommy whimpers. "You're quiet- it's scaring me.""I... oh. I got stabbed, didn't I," Tubbo says.Doomsday is upon them. TNT rains from the sky and withers attack. In the end, despite everything that has happened between Tommy and Tubbo, they still mean everything to each other.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 65
Kudos: 609
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	at the end (hand in hand)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! This fic involves stuff like ptsd and panic attacks and blood (nothing graphic though) and i would ask that if ur sensitive to that stuff you read the tags carefully please and/or proceed with caution. I want y'all to be safe!!
> 
> Also, disclaimer, these characters are interpretations of the characters the content creators portray, not representations of the content creators themselves.

Tubbo sprints across the crater-filled ground, making a wide arc around the center of the battlefield. His ribs hurt. He had taken a direct hit from one of the withers. The projectile had slammed into his side, right where the straps of his armor are, where the diamond chestplate doesn’t quite meet. He thinks some of them might have been broken.

He stops at the edge of the battlefield, bending over to catch his breath. He’s just out of range of the ongoing attack. He needs a moment to recover from the pain.

A firework explodes over to his left, by the Camarvan. He flinches, his scars tingling in a reminder of just how much damage the colorful explosion could do. His breath catches in his throat as the sparks twinkle in the air, fading as they fall to the ground.

He pushes back the memories. He can’t panic here. He needs to fight there’s too many withers there’s no time for memories _he needs to fight._

He takes a deep breath, fixes his eyes on a nearby wither, and charges.

The fireworks stop. He notices Quackity fighting Technoblade out of the corner of his eyes.

He focuses back on the wither. It’s fine. Quackity will be fine. He ignores the shouts they exchange. _It’s fine._ Quackity won’t let himself die. 

Tubbo falls and he yelps. He got distracted. He fell into the ravine that L’Manberg is built over, the withers having destroyed the layers that covered it up. The water that used to form a peaceful lake below the stilts of L’Manberg is no longer there. Tubbo hits the ground hard.

A sharp pain shoots up his leg. Tubbo bites back a scream. He waits, one moment, then two, and then he takes a tentative step. It hurts, but it’s not as bad as his ribs.

He pulls blocks from his inventory, scrambling to the other edge of the ravine. He starts towering, keeping his ears open for the sound of a wither firing. He reaches the top of the ravine and immediately ducks, a blue wither skull flying over his head. Then he launches himself over the edge, onto solid ground. He charges at the wither, sword held tight in a white-knuckled grip.

He’s forced to dodge again before he reaches the wither, but he bounces back immediately, leaping into the air. He holds his swords with both hands as he slams it down against the wither’s ribs.

The bone crunches, and Tubbo watches with satisfaction as a crack runs along the bone. It breaks from the wither’s ribcage, tumbling to the ground. Tubbo falls with it. He lands with a heavy thump, biting back a scream as the pain in his ankle flares. He doesn’t have time to stop though, so he darts away. A moment later, the block he had been standing on goes up in blue fire.

He runs beneath the wither, skidding to a stop behind it. He uses his good foot, the one he stopped himself with, to launch himself back at the wither. He lands another blow, a triumphant yell ripping itself from his throat.

The wither turns, and two of its heads focus on him. Their eyeless sockets glow purple. Tubbo gulps, scrambling backward.

An arrow embeds itself in one of the skulls, a second one following in quick succession. The wither turns and fires. While it’s distracted, Tubbo manages to get in another strike. There’s a shout and a blur of black and white, and then Ranboo is balancing on the withers shoulders, his sword raised above it’s middle skull. He plunges it down before the wither can react.

Ranboo jumps off as blue fire flickers to life around the sword. He lands with a roll, safe, as the wither falls to the ground. Blue fire rapidly consumes the mob, and when the fire recedes, all that’s left is a twinkling wither star.

Tubbo, as he’s struggling to pull air back into his lungs, picks up the wither star and tosses it to Ranboo. “Thanks,” he says.

Ranboo looks startled. “Oh. No, you should keep it.” He tries to hand it back. “You did all the work.”

“I was struggling and you helped me finish it off.” He waves away the extended wither star, his tone turning bitter. “Besides, I’ve already got a lot of them. It’s not like there’s a lack of withers.”

Ranboo, after a moment's hesitation, tucks it away in his inventory with a quiet, “Thanks.” 

Tubbo nods in acknowledgement.

They turn back to the battlefield. There’s still too many withers. People are killing them but there’s just _so many._

They exchange a glance. Tubbo closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and starts running through the quickly deteriorating landscape. He heads towards a wither near Jack Manifold’s house. When he deems himself close enough, he stops and pulls out his bow. He shoots, hits, and the wither starts aiming for him.

Tubbo stays further away from the wither this time. He needs to let his ankle rest. Drawing the bow makes his ribs hurt, but he pushes through it. His ankle needs a break, he can worry about his ribs later.

His battle with the wither is spent mostly shooting from afar. It’s easier to dodge the wither skulls shot at him and it means he doesn’t have to move as much. It’s only once the wither is low that he draws his sword, running up to deal the finishing blow.

After a quick bounce off of the broken pieces of a fence and a sword driven through the middle skull, Tubbo pockets a wither star.

He eyes up another wither that Captain Puffy is fighting. She looks like she can handle it, but she’s too close to a second one. Tubbo, intent on helping her, is about to run over when TNT starts raining from the sky.

“What?” Tubbo whispers, standing dead still. He stares at the steady stream of TNT. It falls so _fast,_ and it's all pulsing with a white light, ready to explode.

The first piece of TNT hits the ground, and the air is filled with the sound of explosions. TNT falls in the same spots, punching holes deep into the earth. The ravine left from the last time L’Manberg exploded can’t even compare to the new crater that’s being created.

“What?!” Tubbo cries again.

L’Manberg is falling apart before his eyes.

The stilted walkways are the first to go. Thin and made of wood, they disappear within the first minute of raining TNT. The houses are next, and Tubbo watches in horror as pieces of rubble fly through the air. It’s not long before TNT pummels the stone L’Manberg is built upon.

Tubbo wants to cry.

He gave up so _much_ for L’Manberg. He put his heart and his soul into running the nation they had built. He tried his best to run things fairly, to keep the peace, and now, before his eyes, it’s being blown to pieces. _Again._

The crater is so much larger this time, and it keeps expanding.

“No no no no _no,”_ Tubbo realizes he’s muttering. 

His eyes fix on the obsidian grid looming above him in the sky. The TNT rains down from there. He can see two figures running along the top. He’s not surprised to see Dream, his vibrant green hoodie giving him away. The other figure, though, hurts to see.

It’s Phil.

Tommy’s dad is up there with Dream. Tommy’s dad, and kinda his dad too. He had spent hours upon hours with Tommy and his family when they were younger, enough so that Phil had often referred to Tubbo as an honorary son. As one of his own. And now he’s up on the obsidian grid, running around, filling the dispensers with TNT and helping Dream. He’s there and he’s there to destroy L’Manberg- the nation Tubbo had put so much care into maintaining, the nation Tommy had sacrificed so much for so they could simply _exist,_ the nation Wilbur had built from nothing. His carefree laughter drifts down as he destroys their precious nation, and it _hurts._

Tubbo blinks away the tears, twisting his hurt into determination. He needs to do something. He needs to stop them.

He takes off sprinting. Adrenaline starts pumping through his veins again as he heads for the staircase leading up towards the obsidian grid in the sky. His ankle slows him down, twinging with pain and unsteady on the broken ground, but he pushes through it. _He needs to stop them._

He takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches the platform. He pulls blocks from his inventory and starts towering. He places blocks as quick as he can, desperate to reach the grid.

There’s the sound of a wither firing, and Tubbo’s tower explodes in blue flame.

Tubbo is sent tumbling into the growing crater below. The ground is so far below him, blown to smithereens by the falling TNT. There’s enough space between his tower and the ground for him to fumble in his inventory and snatch his water bucket. He manages to place the water before he hits the ground.

It still hurts. It still hurts a _lot._ He’s frozen for a moment, taking deep breaths as he pushes the pain away. Then he gets up, scooping up the water. He can’t waste time. His heart pounds in his ears as he starts running back towards the edge of the crater.

The explosion had pushed him towards the center, away from the stairs, into the falling TNT. He can’t build here. The ground explodes almost right beneath his feet. He needs to get back to the side, he _needs to get up there._

Before he can get close to the edge of the crater, Technoblade steps in front him. His sword is held comfortably in his hand, and his crown is replaced by a netherite helmet. His teeth are bared, his tusks adorned with golden rings. “I can’t letcha do that, Mr. President,” he rumbles, pointing his sword at Tubbo.

“Let me through,” Tubbo hisses. He watches Technoblade warily, keeping an eye on the blade pointed at him. “I need to do something I need to _stop this_ I can’t- I can’t stand by and watch as L’Manberg gets blown up _again.”_

“I warned you,” Technoblade replies, uncaring. “I warned you that yer government had to go. Ya keep _betrayin’_ me like this, you keep formin’ new governments. I can’t letcha keep doing this. Ya need ta’ learn that th’ world is better off without it.”

_“Please,_ Technoblade,” Tubbo pleads, desperation ringing in his voice. “Please just- just step aside. Please just let me _try.”_

He knows, realistically, that he can’t take down Dream on his own. He knows, realistically, that Phil would be able to disarm him in a flash. ~~Maybe he’d even kill him like he did Wilbur.~~ He knows he can’t stop them, not really, but he can at least _try._ Whether it be through attacking those destroying L’Manberg ~~even at the cost of his life~~ or taking out the dispensers deploying TNT.

Technoblade’s expression doesn’t change. “Pleadin’ ain’t gonna change anythin’, Tubbo. The government needs ta’ go.” He pauses, studying Tubbo, and Tubbo doesn’t like the bloodthirsty look he can see in his eyes. “Ah suppose tha’ means tha’ you, as the President, need ta’ go too.”

Tubbo’s breath hitches as he instinctively backpedals. Technoblade’s cloak starts to flicker before his eyes. Instead of the current light blue, he catches glimpses of the royal red he wore back during the Festival. His eyes glow red, the same as then. The only difference is that, this time, he’s going to attack Tubbo with a sword, not fireworks.

Technoblade lunges. Tubbo manages to dodge Technoblade’s first strike, but he’s forced to block the next one. His arms shake from the sheer strength powering Technoblade’s swings. It’s all he can do to keep his grip on his sword.

He rolls to the side, wincing as it hurts his ribs. He takes the moment as Technoblade’s sword slams into the ground behind him to recover for a split second, springing to his feet. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, dulling the pain in his ankle and side. Techno is in front of him. His hands shake as his newfound energy runs through his veins. 

He swings at Technoblade. Technoblade blocks the blow with his shield, falling back a step. Tubbo swings again. Technoblade slips to the side and retaliates with an attack of his own.

It glances off his helmet. Tubbo reels back, ears ringing from the impact. Technoblade takes advantage of his disorientation, lashing out with his hoof. He kicks Tubbo square in the stomach. He’s sent sprawling on the ground. He struggles to breathe, the kick jostling his already injured ribs.

Tubbo tries to scramble away from the piglin hybrid, but the pain is paralyzing. He can’t focus. He loses track of Technoblade’s sword. He only finds it again when it stabs through his thigh.

Tubbo screams, tears welling up in his eyes.

Technoblade removes the sword. Tubbo’s hands fly to his leg, all thought of Technoblade forgotten as pain wracks his body. He presses down on the wound. Blood quickly coats his fingers.

All he can feel is pain. His leg hurts his ribs hurt he can’t focus he _can’t see where Technoblade is._ The sword had gone through the same leg on which he hurt his ankle. He scoots backward with his arms, whimpering as his leg jostles on the ground. He needs to get away but he can’t run his leg hurts _so much._

Technoblade towers over him.

Fear floods through his veins. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears again. 

“Please no,” Tubbo pleads.

Technoblade is standing over him. Memories push to the surface of the Festival. He can hear Schlatt’s voice ringing in his ears, ordering Technoblade, _“Take him out.”_

His vision swims. One moment, he’s staring at Technoblade from the bottom of a crater. Explosions go off around them, people shout in the background. Withers fly in the sky, destroying everything around them. The next moment, he’s still staring at Technoblade. But this time, Schlatt and Quackity are there. He’s trapped in a yellow concrete box and he’s aware that everyone is staring at him, in horror or glee or concern, but _no one’s helping him._

But Technoblade carries a sword. And he snaps back to the crater.

Tubbo’s breathing is shallow. He keeps breathing but there’s enough air. He can’t feel his fingertips. 

The world swims out of focus again, wavering between the Festival and Doomsday. The only constant is Technoblade, standing over him, eyes glowing red.

“Please no,” Tubbo whimpers. He tried to scoot back- he’s not in a cement box he’s _not-_

Technoblade pulls out a crossbow.

Tubbo can’t breathe.

He’s trapped in a cement box. Schlatt’s voice is ringing in his ears, and he can hear gasps from the audience below the stage. Schlatt is sneering down at him and Technoblade’s face is impassive but he can’t help but think he looks like he’s considering it, considering doing what Schlatt ordered. He keeps talking but his crossbow is equipped. It’s pointed at the ground but it’s _there_ and it’s not going away.

“Sorry Tubbo,” Technoblade says. _He loads a firework._ “I can’t letcha leave.” That’s… that’s not what he said. Is it? Maybe he did. “Don’ worry. I’ll make this as painless an’ as colorful as possible.”

He definitely _definitely_ said that.

Tubbo whimpers. He cowers in his cement cage. He’s alone and he’s scared and they said Technoblade isn’t supposed to hurt him but he’s there and he’s raising his arm so he can point his crossbow at Tubbo. He’s supposed to come out of this okay, this wasn’t even _supposed_ to happen, they were at a festival not a _damned execution-_

The firework is pointed at him. He can’t breathe but there’s also too much air but it’s still not enough _why can’t he breathe properly._ He can already feel that heat that accompanies the explosion of a firework and he can see Technoblade start to smile-

“NO!” Tommy screeches, barreling into Technoblade.

Tubbo can’t breathe but Tommy is here. Tommy is here- what- that’s not what happened- that’s. That’s not what happened.

Tubbo isn’t in a concrete box. He’s curled up on stone ground in a crater. He’s not… he’s not trapped.

The sound of the surrounding battlefield filters into his ears, quiet at first but quickly growing in volume. He can see a wither chase Ranboo across the edge of the crater. Sapnap stands out of the way, firing arrow upon arrow.

Tubbo moves, and his ribs hurt. He startles, looking down. His armor is singed and his leg is bleeding.

He had armor. His sword lies right beside him.

He starts to breathe again.

Okay. Okay. He’s… he’s okay. He can breathe, he’s _not_ trapped at the festival. He’s in the middle of a battlefield.

Which admittedly, is not the best of places to be. It’s nowhere near safe and probably even more dangerous than the festival ever was. But he grew up in war. He’s used to it. He can deal with it.

Tubbo takes a shaky breath, panic still dancing in his veins, and looks down at his leg. It’s still oozing blood.

He tears off his tie, wrapping it tight around his leg. He needs to stop the bleeding. He has no potions and no gapples, so a bandage will have to do for now. The sound of withers and shouting grounds him, reminding him that he can’t sit around forever. Not when L’Manberg is falling to pieces around him.

There’s a shout from his left and Tubbo’s head jerks up. He looks over just in time to see Technoblade flip Tommy to the ground. Tommy’s sword spins away from him.

Tommy only had a helmet.

Fear floods Tubbo’s veins again. It’s an all encompassing fear, blocking out any emotion other than panic. Tommy can’t die. Technoblade is poised over Tommy, sword raised, and Tubbo can’t let him stab down _he can’t let Tommy die._

Tubbo just got him back.

It’s Tubbo’s turn to tackle Technoblade now. He’s on his feet in an instant, the pain in his leg an afterthought. Adrenaline pumps through his system, giving him the strength to run over and shove Technoblade away from Tommy.

Technoblade had, for whatever reason, hesitated before stabbing Tommy. _He hesitated._ It gave Tubbo enough time to run over to him, to push him away from Tommy. He doesn’t get pushed far. He noticed Tubbo running over, and had adjusted accordingly, but he’s distracted for long enough that Tommy is able to roll out of the way.

One of Tommy’s arms is limp, Tubbo notices. It’s bleeding and it just flops against his side.

Tommy scoops up his sword with the hand of his uninjured arm. He stands up, facing Technoblade again. Tubbo moves to stand beside him.

A snarl graces Tommy’s face. “You need to stop trying to kill Tubbo,” he says harshly.

“We’re at _war,_ Tommy,” Technoblade huffs. “In case ya’ didn’ notice, that generally means there’ll be injuries an’ death.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy snaps. 

Technoblade rolls his eyes. He lifts his crossbow, and Tubbo tenses. He pulls his shield out, clutching it tight. Tommy, beside him, raises his sword.

“Don’t fucking do this Techno,” Tommy growls. “You _don’t have to do this.”_

“Really, Tommy. Really. Don’t. Even. Start,” Technoblade rumbles. “You _betrayed_ me again, ya’ left me for a corrupt government. You know what they’re like! You know they hafta go down!”

“You can’t just destroy something like this!” Tommy shouts. “You’re just- you’re just destroying everything for your own self gain! You’re deciding that you know better, that you should be the one who gets to decide, and you go on and start destroying what’s important to other people, what people put hours upon hours of effort into!”

“Itsa government, Tommy. They’re inherently bad, they corrupt anyone involved! How can ya not see tha’ it’s the cause of all your problems! You were EXILED by tha’ very same government yer now siding with! If there were no governments ya wouldn’t have had all’a these problems!” Technoblade’s voice is raised but he doesn’t move yet, as if hoping his words get through to Tommy. His stance is relaxed even though his sword is held at the ready. He studies Tommy carefully.

Tubbo glances over at Tommy as well, fear gripping his heart. Technoblade… Technoblade isn’t necessarily wrong. There was Schlatt, who ran the nation into the ground, driving away anyone who ever supported him and throwing around his power for his own gain. He was the first to exile Tommy. He had to spend weeks away from his friends, stressed, with a deteriorating Wilbur for company. Wilbur, who ended up blowing the very nation he created to smithereens, even after they had won it back. Tommy’s older brother, the closest family he had, the first president and founder of L’Manberg, betrayed him, leaving them floundering for weeks as they tried to clean up the mess Wilbur created. 

And then there’s Tubbo. He had exiled Tommy just like Schlatt, and when Tommy came back, he… wasn’t how he used to be. He was hurt. He was hurt _bad._ Tubbo could see in it in his dull eyes, in the way he flinched away from outstretched hands and in how he stared uncomfortably long at the lava lakes in the Nether.

He knew it was Technoblade who took him in, who helped put him back on his feet, who promised to help Tommy when no one else would.

Technoblade wasn’t necessarily wrong, and that’s what hurt the most.

He watches Tommy with an anxious gaze, nerves fluttering in his stomach.

Tommy meets his gaze, and his eyes harden. He turns back to Technoblade.

“Fuck you,” Tommy spits. “You killed Tubbo and you tried to do it again. You destroy what you don’t like because only what _you_ think matters, no matter who it hurts. You play judge, jury, and executioner as if you’re the ultimate authority, the only person whose opinion matters.You’re as bad as- no, you’re _worse_ than the government. You just want to see the world burn.”

Tubbo is almost dizzy with relief. Tommy glances over, his eyes softening and a small smile dancing across his face. Tubbo smiles back, hoping it conveys everything he’s feeling.

“Fine, Tommy,” Technoblade says. His voice is ice cold.

Tubbo’s head snaps back to look at Technoblade. His crossbow is raised and it’s aimed at _Tommy._

Tommy, who only has a helmet and no shield. Tommy, who’s currently looking at Tubbo.

The crossbow scares Tubbo. The firework sitting in it even moreso. He still remembers how the firework burned as it exploded on his skin. He still has a reminder of what it can do etched onto his skin in the form of scars, covering part of his face and his entire right side. It’s a permanent reminder, one that comes with the loss of one of his precious three lives. He still remembers Technoblade towering over him, bloodlust shining in his eyes like it does now. He still remembers the panic, the fear, the _pain,_ and the tinge of betrayal he felt because Technoblade _wasn’t supposed to hurt him._

He remembers all this, he feels all this, and he jumps in front of Tommy.

He raises his shield not a moment too soon. Fireworks thump into the wood, and the singed smell rises into the. Tubbo stiffens. It’s not quite the same as… as his flesh burning, but it’s close enough.

“I had that,” Tommy scowls from behind him. Not thank you. _I had that._

It’s such a Tommy thing to say that a laugh falls from Tubbo’s lips, the memories fading like the smoke from the firework.

He peers over the top of the shield. Technoblade is loading another firework. Tubbo takes a few steps closer, feels the thump of the firework hitting the shield, and then he tosses it to the side, sprinting at Technoblade.

He lands a punch smack-dab on Technoblade’s snout. 

Tommy whoops behind him, pride clear in his voice. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t really do any damage. He got close enough to punch _Technoblade._ Right in the face, too. Tubbo would have smiled if he weren’t inches away from him.

He gets a cut on his arm in retaliation, but it’s shallow. Technoblade hadn’t had his crossbow loaded yet and was forced to pull out his sword, but by the time he got it out, Tubbo was already backing away. The injury is totally worth it.

As Tubbo backs up, he kicks his shield back towards Tommy. It skitters across the ground, and he hears Tommy pick it up. When he finally reaches Tommy’s side again, he stands up as straight as he can with a heavily damaged leg and injured ribs, and he points his sword at Technoblade.

The gravity of their situation settles in again. Tubbo and Tommy are facing down Technoblade, the sole vessel of the Blood God and proclaimed pvp king. A hybrid with high-powered gear and multiple potions, who’s in the midst of chunk erroring their nation.

Technoblade has his crossbow out, a firework resting in the body of the weapon. It’s fully loaded this time. Unease creeps up Tubbo’s spine again.

“Leave,” he says, trying to be as demanding as possible. Technoblade’s flat, annoyed gaze makes him falter. His voice wavers as he says, “You’ve caused enough damage already. Just _leave_ or we’ll have to make you.”

Privately, he doesn’t think they could carry out that threat. They can try, but. Well. Technoblade is Technoblade.

~~Technoblade never dies.~~

He thinks he hears another wither die. A few droppers have stopped spitting out explosives, but TNT still rains steadily down from above. The explosions are still constant. He thinks the withers are finally dying, though. He killed a lot, and he keeps seeing others take them down. He hopes the withers are mostly gone. He doesn’t know how much longer this can go on.

Technoblade finally responds, growling, “I’m not leavin’ until L’Manberg is _completely_ gone. An’ if I hafta take ya down to do it, then so be it.”

He fires the firework. Tommy pushes Tubbo behind him, blocking the explosion with his shield. When he lowers it, Technoblade is sprinting across the ground, blade poised to strike. He slips past the shield, slicing into Tommy’s arm. The cut is shallow, which would have been fine if not for the fact that it was landed on Tommy’s injured arm. He yelps, and Tubbo steps forward, attacking Technoblade. Technoblade dodges, returning the blow. Tubbo manages to deflect it.

The couple of minutes is filled with a back and forth exchange of blows. It’s hard to land a blow on Technoblade. He’s on his toes, bouncing around them as they fight. Tubbo can barely move with his injured leg. The most he does is sway a step or two to the side to deflect or dodge a blow. Because he’s stationary, Tommy is too, keeping an eye on Tubbo’s back and jumping in with the shield to deflect fireworks. He stays to Tubbo’s right. His left arm is useless. Tubbo makes sure to make up for Tommy’s injured arm.

They fight like that, with Tubbo and Tommy working as a team. They manage well against Technoblade, despite their injuries, despite Technoblade’s superiority in combat. They fight as well as they can, but it can’t last forever. 

It doesn’t. As time goes on, and Tubbo and Tommy slow, tired but still fighting despite their wounds, Technoblade manages to land a hit on Tommy’s side. He gets a stab in between his armor on his shoulder from Tubbo for that, but he immediately retaliates with a slash one of Tubbo’s arms and dances away before either of them could strike back.

Technoblade lands a few more blows on skin and armor, taking almost none in return. Tubbo’s armor and Tommy’s shield are covered in dents and scratches. Tommy’s clothing is stained red, more so than Tubbo’s, his lack of armor making him an easy target.

Tommy is out of breath. He has to be mobile, to cover what Tubbo couldn’t, and the constant movement is tiring him out. Tubbo isn’t doing much better. The blood dripping from his leg has slowed but it still _hurts,_ making it hard to stand and fight.

Technoblade notices this. He uses a splash potion, the particles giving it away as a strength potion. Tubbo nearly starts crying. They’re so _weak_ right now and Technoblade is clearly intent on ending the fight.

Technoblade lands another hit on Tubbo. And then another. And then he lands one on Tommy, and both of them are struggling to keep up.

Technoblade lunges at the both of them. Tommy blocks with his shield. The blow sends him stumbling back. Technoblade turns to Tubbo, swinging his sword. Tubbo steps to the side, barely dodging the blow.

His steps on a rock. His bad ankle rolls and he _screams._ He manages to catch himself but Technoblade advances. He lunges, stabs, and Tubbo’s blade clatters to the ground.

The heavily enchanted, netherite sword slides back out of his diamond chestplate.

Technoblade pulls back, a sharp grin on his face. And then Technoblade is gone and he’s seeing the sky and- oh. That’s nice. It’s blue. It’s a lovely blue, with fluffy white clouds drifting lazily across it and darker clouds hovering on the horizon. There’s a dark grid in front of the sky, but it’s still a lovely color.

A head pops in front of his view of the sky, and Tubbo frowns for a moment, but then his frown disappears. The person’s eyes are as blue as the sky. He knows those eyes. They’re kinda and they make him feel warm and soft.

It takes a moment before he hears the words the person is saying. “...ey there, Tubbo, please please look at me, _please.”_

It takes a little effort to focus on the person themselves- oh, is the person holding him? He thinks they are. His chest is really warm right now but he thinks that the person’s arms are wrapped around him but he can’t really tell. His eyes are fixed on the person's face. The person he knows so well. The person who’s his best ~~best?~~ friend.

“-say something Tubbo please, you’re quiet, it’s-” there’s a muffled sob- “it’s really scaring me man.”

He looks up at the person. Tommy, he reminds himself. That’s Tommy. He thinks Tommy is holding him close, because he’s right above Tubbo. His tears drip onto Tubby's face. Tommy shouldn’t be crying. Tommy never cries. Who made Tommy cry? That’s not okay.

Tommy never cried. Not when he gave up his disks for his country. Not when Eret betrayed them. Not when he was exiled from L’Manberg for the first time. Not when Wilbur slowly spiraled into insanity. Not when he was on trial. Even when Tubbo ~~stupidly foolishly~~ exiled him, even when tears gathered in his eyes, he never let them fall.

But now he’s openly sobbing, tears falling swiftly, creating streaks through the grime on his face.

“Hey, Tommy,” he says, voice weak. “You good? You’re crying.”

He looks down and registers the amount of red flowing from his abdomen. “Oh. I got stabbed, din’t I.”

“You- you did, big man. But it’s fine!” Tommy laughed hysterically. “You’re- you’re gonna be okay- _fuck_ I don’t have any potions-” Tommy places his head carefully on his lap and starts digging around in his inventory with his good arm, pulling out items and tossing them carelessly into a steadily growing pile.

He takes out a stack of gapples, and his eyes brighten despite the tears falling from them.

“Here!” he cries, holding one to Tubbo’s lips. “Here, just take a bite, it’ll help please it’ll be fine you just- you just need to eat.”

“Tommy-” The voice is a low, rumbling sound. Fear sends shivers down his spine as he recognizes who the voice belongs to.

_“FUCK OFF,”_ Tommy screams. The voice falls silent. Tommy turns back to Tubbo. His smile isn’t really a smile, it’s all wobbly at the edges as he holds Tubbo closer. Tears continue to fall down Tommy’s face.

“Just one bite, yeah?” he pleads. “Just one and it’ll help and you’ll get better you just need to _eat it.”_

They both know that gapples couldn’t heal Tubbo’s injury. To heal it, they’d need multiple potions or a god apple. They didn’t have either. Their supplies were blown up and god apples were practically non-existent. They only had the gapples which, at most, would only prolong Tubbo’s life.

~~He knows he won’t be coming back from this.~~

Tubbo takes a small bite. It’s all he can manage. “Good,” Tommy murmurs. “See it’s gonna be okay it should help it should work it _has to.”_

Tubbo swallows, and takes another bite at Tommy’s insistence. Tommy’s grip on the gapple is so tight it dents the skin. But when Tommy tries to get him to take a third, he shakes his head. “I… don’ think thas gonna work, Tommy,” he says.

Fresh tears spill down Tommy’s face. He grips the gapple tighter, as if he’s going to force it down Tubbo’s throat, but he glances down at Tubbo’s torso. His shoulders slump, and his arm lowers. Tubbo hears the thump of the gapple falling to the ground, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Tommy. Tommy meets Tubbo’s gaze again.

“It’s- it’s gonna be okay, Tubbo,” Tommy sobs. He wraps his good arm around Tubbo, scooting so he’s further underneath him. He holds Tubbo close to him, keeping him off of the cold, hard ground. “It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you just gotta heal and get a little sleep and then we can go and find your bees- they all disappeared, see, and I know how much you love your bees-”

Tubbo can’t hear explosions anymore. He doesn’t think it’s his hearing, because he can still hear Tommy. Did the TNT stop falling? Are the withers gone?

“‘s... ‘s l’manberg okay?” Tubbo asks. “No more… no more exploshuns.”

A choked noise falls from Tommy’s lips. “Yeah, Tubbo, yeah. It’s- it’s doing fine. You’re right! There’s no more explosions. It’s, well, it’s seen better days, but its not all that bad. It just needs a little decoration. Like cobblestone! Cobblestone is a good stone, ya’ know? It’s a very nice stone, it’s all you really need to liven a place up.”

“Thas good,” Tubbo says.

Something in his mouth tastes metallic. It’s getting harder to breathe.

“Yeah it is.”

Tubbos smiles up at Tommy. His friend. His best friend. “I’m gla’ you're here, Tommy. I mithed you. Yer my beth friend, ya know?”

Tommy keens, the noise bouncing through the destroyed land around then. “Yeah Tubbo. I know. You’re my best friend too! You’re my absolute favorite person and…” His voice starts fading out. “...could’ve been here soo… missed you so much.”

“‘You’ll sthay?” Tubbo manages to ask.

“Of course Tubbo,” Tommy sobs. “Of course, I’m right here… ur side I won’t ever _ever_ leave ag…. _I’m ri… you ju… n’t leave me.”_

Tommy keeps talking, his voice rumbling in his chest. Tubbo can’t make out the words he’s saying anymore, but he can still hear his voice. It’s comforting, knowing his best friend is right beside him. His heartbeat is nice, Tubbo thinks distantly. It’s soothing.

The arm around him tightens. It’s so warm. It’s very very nice. It makes him feel safe.

He hasn’t felt this safe or happy in a long while.

Tommy’s voice starts to fade out. Tubbo struggles to look up at Tommy. He feels like he’s miles away.

He manages to catch a glimpse of blue eyes. His heartbeat thunders in his ears. He smiles up at Tommy, trying to let him know that it’s okay, that he’s happy to see him again.

~~His mouth barely twitches.~~

Tubbo missed his best friend.

* * *

“Please,” Tommy sobs, holding his best friend close to his chest. “Not again please _I can’t lose you again.”_

Tubbo is quiet. He doesn’t move.

“...Tubbo?” Tommy asks, voice small. “Tubbo?”

The silence in the air is stifling.

“Tubbo you gotta say something,” Tommy said. “I can’t- I can’t see shit right now there’s too much water in my eyes please Tubbo you gotta move or speak or something _please just do something.”_

Tommy’s arm is tight around Tubbo as he cradles his best friend. His skin feels cold. He doesn’t feel any movement. _He doesn’t feel Tubbo breathing._

“...Tubbo?” Tommy’s voice wavered. “Tubbo? You’re okay, right? You- you gotta be sleeping. Wake up for me? Please? You gotta wake up for me Tubbo, you _gotta wake up,_ we’re still in the middle of a battlefield you can’t sleep here please Tubbo _please.”_

Tubbo doesn’t respond and Tommy sobs harder, curling around his best friend. He holds Tubbo as close as he can. All that leaves his mouth is unintelligible mumbling as he begs with Tubbo to wake up, to stay with him because he just got his best friend back and he can’t lose him again, please no no _no._

There’s the thud of someone landing behind him, footsteps, and a hand rests on his shoulder. Tommy ignores it, curled around the broken body of his best friend.

“Tommy, mate,” Phil says softly. “He’s gone. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but he’s gone.” He moves his hand to Tommy’s arm, as if to help him up. “Let's get you out of here, yeah? You’re hurt, we need to fix you up.”

Tommy yanks his arm away. “Go away,” he mumbles.

“Tommy?” Phil asks, confused.

“Go AWAY!” Tommy yells, whipping around to face Phil. _“GO THE FUCK AWAY.”_

Through teary eyes, Tommy can see Phil recoil. He stares at Tommy with some stupid fucking hurt expression on his face.

“I know it’s hard, Tommy,” Phil tries. “But you need to let him go.”

He misunderstands. He needs to _fuck off,_ Tommy doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“Fuck you,” Tommy hisses through tears. “I”m not letting him go, he's the _only person_ I have left.”

He lowers Tubbo’s head gently to his lap, running his fingers through his best friend’s hair as he stares Phil down. He stays hunched over his best friend. He _will not_ let anyone take Tubbo away. Not again.

“Tommy,” Phil says, crouching down beside his son. “You’ve still got friends. There’s everyone in L’Manberg-”

“No I don’t,” Tommy interrupts. His voice is hoarse from crying. “No one fucking _cares._ I’m just a troublesome kid who fucked everything up, who lies and destroys and everyone’s _sick of it.”_

“Well then, there’s still me. I’m still here.”

“For how long,” Tommy spits. He untaggles his hand from Tubbo’s hair and shoves Phil’s shoulder. Phil goes sprawling back, and he stares at Tommy, eyes wide. “You aren’t here for me. You never fucking were. You were happy to just- _abandon_ me and Wilbur, your _sons,_ to go prancing off on your little fucking adventures like you didn’t have sons who needed you. You don’t get to blow up L’Manberg, you don’t get to kill Wilbur and then run off _again_ and leave me alone with fucking _Dream_ and still act like you fucking care. You don’t get to act like you’re my _dad-”_ he spits the word like it’s poison- “not when all you’ve ever done is _leave.”_

He turns back to Tubbo, shoulders tense as he waits for Phil to react. Tears still stream down his face, and little whimpers escape his throat as he stares down at Tubbo. He goes back to combing through his best friend’s hair with a shaking ~~bloody~~ hand. It’s okay, Tubbo- he still has Tubbo in his arms. He’s still here-

He’s right he-

He’s right…

Tommy curls up closer to his best friend, his shoulders shaking. Sobs pour from his mouth, and he stops combing through Tubbo’s hair. He pulls him close again.

Phil doesn’t approach him again. He hears Techno mutter, “Snap outta’ it Phil. We’re gonna hafta leave.”

Good. _Good,_ Tommy thinks viciously. They don’t deserve to be here. Phil doesn’t get to pretend he cares, not when he blew up the nation that had meant so much to his sons. Technoblade doesn’t get to stand in the crater of the nation he destroyed, prancing around like he’s some sort of _savior,_ not when he killed Tubbo for a second ~~and final~~ time.

Tears fall down Tommy’s face unhindered. He doesn’t wipe them away, he can’t, not when his hand is all that’s keeping Tubbo ~~’s body~~ close. He won’t let his best friend go. He can’t leave him again. He _can’t._

He tries to bring his other arm to wrap around the body of his best friend but can’t. The pain leaves him paralyzed. His breathing stutters as the pain overwhelms him. He freezes as he tries to remember how to breathe, waiting until the pain recedes.

Okay. It’s not okay. One arm is fine, Tubbo ~~’s body~~ is still here, still close.

He continues to sob as he holds his best friend close, he closes his eyes and he wishes it was different. He wishes that Tubbo was ~~n’t dead~~ still talking, that they trusted each other again, that he was never exiled so they were ~~never hurt- still friends- not in the middle of a _fucking war-_ were- ~~ would have been able to spend all that time together. _He just wants his best friend ~~alive again~~ _ _back._

There’s a lime green blob, blurred from the tears, standing in front of him and Tubbo. Tommy tenses, lifting his head to glare at Dream from where he’s curled around his best friend on the ground.

Dream saunters over, steps slow. Tommy holds Tubbo close. He needs to protect his best friend he can’t let Dream get ~~his body~~ him. 

Dream stops a few feet away from them.

Tommy’s entire body is tense as he waits for Dream to do something. He waits for him to move, to speak, to pull out his axe, but he just stands there, hands tucked in his pockets, observing them.

Tommy is the first to speak, fed up with Dream staring at them like they’re some sort of _show._ “You did this,” he hisses. _“You fucking did this.”_

“Now, Tommy,” Dream says, his tone placating. Tommy _hates_ it. It’s the same tone he used with Tommy when he visited him in exile.

Tommy shifts, slowly lowering Tubbo to the ground. He runs the fingers of his good arm briefly through Tubbo’s hair again as Dream continues, “When will you learn? You bring this upon yourse-”

Tommy screams. It's a challenging shriek, full of hurt, spilling from his lips solely for the purpose of _shutting Dream up._ Unbeknownst to Tommy, it echoes across the battlefield, drawing the attention of everyone who hears it.

He scoops up the diamond sword- _Tubbo’s sword-_ from beside him. He surges to his feet, stabbing at Dream. Dream is quick to block his move with a shield from his inventory.

“YOU DID THIS!” Tommy screeches. His tears make his vision blurry. He hacks at Dream with his sword. He lands only about half of his swings, and even then, they’re intercepted by the shield. “You had me _exiled-”_

“That was Tubbo.”

Tommy’s next swing is particularly vicious. Dream _knows_ he made him do it. He _knows_ he’s the one pulling the strings. His sword embeds itself into Dream’s shield. He yanks it back before Dream can knock it from his hands.

“And you only visited to _watch_ me and torment me and to make sure I couldn’t fight back-”

“I was your friend, your _only_ friend-”

“And you keep SAYING THAT- that you were my _friend_ and that you _cared_ because no one else did but all you did was HURT ME-”

“I was helping you, Tommy. Helping you learn.” Dream’s words could have been mistaken for kindness if they didn’t sound so mocking.

“Helping me learn _what,”_ Tommy hisses. The tears still fall but anger burns in his heart, anger at Dream and everything he put Tommy through and the fact that he _always seems to win-_ “That you have all the power? That you’re a massive dick who likes having control over people? That nothing matters to you other than these- these _games_ you play with the lives of everyone around you? Well CONGRATULATIONS. You fucking won. L’Manberg is a crater and _you killed Tubbo.”_

“Technoblade killed Tubbo,” Dream corrected, dodging another vicious swing. Tommy would bet the green bastard is smiling. His voice sounds so smug and he looks relaxed as he watches Tommy cry and scream and fight with energy that ran out weeks ago. He hasn’t even attacked. He just keeps dodging and blocking and he doesn’t even have his axe in his hand and it _pisses Tommy off._

“Shut _UP!”_ Tommy screams. “YOU’RE THE ONE BEHIND IT YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN.”

His sword grazes Dream’s sleeve, and Dream slams his shield down atop Tommy’s sword, knocking it from his hand. Tommy dives for it, and Dream steps back, letting him pick up the sword again.

“You think this is _entertaining,”_ Tommy spits venomously. “You act as if everything is a game and you see people as pawns you can bring under your control. You play with people until there’s nothing left. You’re a sick bastard who manipulates everyone around you because you want the power, you want to be the one on top and in control.”

“Your point?” Dream asks, boredom apparent in his tone. He doesn’t even try to deny anything.

It gets under Tommy’s skin, the way he doesn’t care. That he practically agreed with what he said.

Tommy grins. It makes Dream pause for a split second. It’s a feral grin, full of anger and spite and desperation and a want to cause _pain._ “That’s why you’re fucking alone. You’re a lonely bastard who doesn’t have _anyone_ so you play with people's lives to gather power and control. But you disguise it as if you’re actually doing something _good,_ as if that’ll somehow make them _like you again.”_

Dream’s entire frame stiffens. Tommy uses his shock- and probably overwhelming anger- to his advantage and attacks again. He manages to slice open a gash on Dream’s arm.

“No one fucking loves you, Dream,” Tommy says, his teeth bared as he continues to spew venom. “You’re a sad, disgusting excuse of a person who drove away anyone who loved you. All you do kill and destroy and break people down and when everyone finally realizes that, realizes what a shit person you are, they _leave.”_

Dream pulls out his axe, and Tommy laughs hysterically. Not at the threat of death, but at the fact that Dream, the _god_ of the server, needs to threaten a malnourished, exhausted, traumatized child.

Dream looks ready to swing. Tommy should shut up. He knows he should. Dream wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him. Especially now, when he’s clearly terrifyingly angry. But Tommy wants to see Dream _hurt._ He wants to get back at the bastard for the hell he put him through during exile. He wants to get back at him for all the games he’s playing, for all the ruin he’s caused from the shadows.

~~Tubbo’s dead it doesn’t matter anymore _nothing matters anymore_ not this disks not his shit family not technoblade not his no-longer friends they all left him (except maybe Ranboo) and Tubbo is gone he’s _gone_ why should Tommy care anymore his best friend is gone and he’s all alone and everyone hates him (maybe he deserves it) and hes the only one trying to fight against the true tyrant, the puppeteer behind everything, because everyone else just keeps tearing into each other and he’s. he’s so, so tired. he’s exhausted and barely has the energy to stand and he should’ve died week ago, would’ve if not for the green bastard. ~~

~~At least he got to see Tubbo again.~~

Tommy wants to see Dream hurt. That’s why he doesn’t stop the next words that tumble out of his mouth. “They all leave. Just like Sapnap and George did.”

That is one of the biggest taboo topics. It’s _the_ taboo topic. Everyone avoids it, both when talking to Dream and when talking to Sapnap and George. It wasn’t a big secret that Sapnap was slowly drifting away from Dream. That George, after Dream gave him kingship only to take it away in one of his power plays, abruptly snapped, pushing Dream away. It’s not a secret that Dream cared for them, but that he was furious they left him.

It’s a taboo topic, but Tommy throws it in his face, and _damn_ does it make Dream furious.

Dream snarls. It’s low, dark, and dangerous, and it sends shivers down Tommy’s back. He twirls his axe in his hand and in one swift move, before Tommy can even react, Dream knocks Tommy’s sword away and embeds his axe in Tommy’s chest.

The sword goes flying in the air, slamming into the ground inches from Tubbo. A muffled screech spills from Tommy’s lips as he sees _just how close_ the sword came to impaling his best friend ~~’s body.~~

Dream yanks his axe from Tommy’s body. There’s no longer anything holding him up. Tommy stumbles away, the hand of his good arm flying to his chest. It doesn’t take long before his hand and his shirt is dripping red.

“Look what you’ve done, Tommy,” Dream huffs. He puts his axe away and approaches Tommy. He takes out a potion.

He wants to save Tommy. He wants to heal Tommy’s wound, the wound _he_ created. _Look what you’ve done,_ he says. As if he didn’t just drive his axe into Tommy’s chest. As if it was somehow Tommy’s fault that blood steadily poured from the wound.

Dream wants to save Tommy, and Tommy won’t let him. He slaps the potion from Dream’s hand. It shatters on the ground, the potion spilling across the stone.

He doesn’t want to be a part of Dream’s games anymore. He doesn’t want to have to put up with the manipulation and abuse. He’s tired of the games, of Dream playing with him and pushing him and everyone else around, making them bow to his whims. He doesn't want to be under Dream’s control anymore. He wants to be happy. He wants to be able to play pranks and have fun. He wants to be able to relax without worrying about what Dream’s going to do next.

~~He wants Tubbo back.~~

He looks up to where he thinks Dream’s eyes are and says, “Fuck you.”

It’s not… angry, necessarily. His voice is almost as flat as Technoblade’s, upset but calm.

Dream pulls out another potion. A splash potion this time. “It’s not your time to die yet,” Dream says, repeating his words from when he stopped Tommy from jumping in the Nether. His words last time sounded light, as if he were scolding a cat for snatching food off of a plate. This time, his tone is dark.

Tommy is swaying on his feet now as he stares Dream down. Dream lobs the potion in the air. Tommy lunges away, tumbling to the ground. Some of the potion splatters on his leg, healing bruising and scratches he got from fighting withers.

Tubbo lies in front of him. He’s so, _so_ close, but Tommy can’t go to him his body yet. Dream’s still behind him, he’s still a threat.

He pushes on the ground with his good arm, propping himself up. He twists around to glare at Dream. _“Fuck you,”_ he says again.

This time he’s angry. Dream _does not_ get to determine how Tommy lives or dies. Not anymore.

The sword he wielded earlier, Tubbo’s sword, is inches away from him. He sits up, scoots over, and grabs the sword. He points it at Dream.

Dream scoffs, another splash potion in his grip. He steps forward. Tommy’s sword might as well be a stick.

Before Dream can do anything, like taking the sword from Tommy or tossing the potion at him again, an arrow shatters the potion bottle. The liquid splashes over Dream’s hand, dripping onto the ground. He looks away, towards someone Tommy doesn’t care to look for. He keeps his eyes fixed on Dream, wary of what he’s going to do.

Dream holds eye-contact with whoever shot him, before finally huffing and turning back to Tommy.

“Fine.” Dream sounds annoyed, but he doesn’t pull out another potion. “You know what, fine. If you’re going to be this difficult, you can deal with the consequences of your actions on your own.”

And then Tommy is alone again. Dream is gone.

Tommy would be relieved, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. He needs to get back to Tubbo ~~’s body.~~

Tommy no longer has the strength to stand, so he pushes himself onto his right hand and knees, his injured arm dragging on the ground. He fixes his eyes on Tubbo. His surroundings fade. The only thing that matters is Tubbo.

The silence is overwhelming. So, as he pulls himself over to his best friend, he starts talking.

“I- I’m almost there Tubo, I’ll be right there.” His arm gives out and he sprawls on the ground. “It’s gonna- it’s gonna take a bit, I’m a little weak right now, but I’ll be right there.”

He pushes himself up again. His arm trembles, and he crawls closer.

“I really missed you,” Tommy admits with a sob. “It was- it was so lonely in exile. I was left all alone and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And it kinda hurt, because all I could think about was you calling me selfish and turning away from me as Dream forced me out of the nation and- and it really really hurt, ya know? ‘Cause you were my best friend and you just- you abandoned me. You kicked me out like Schlatt did.”

He falls again. His chin hits the ground hard, making his teeth clack together. He wails in frustration, and the tears that had stopped when he attacked Dream start falling again.

“It really, really hurt,” he whimpers. “I thought you were my best friend, that you would stick with me no matter what, and you threw me out without even trying. But- but maybe I deserved it.”

Tubbos is so close. Tommy’s almost there. He forces himself back up and starts moving before his arm can fail again. He only makes it a few steps before he crashes back onto the ground again.

“‘Cause I didn’t do what you asked me to,” Tommy continues after he recovers his breath. “I just caused more trouble and- well, it was me or L’Manberg, yeah? I… I can’t blame you for that now. You probably made the best decision you could, even if- even if it hurt like a _bitch.”_

His chest hurts. His arms hurts. His chin hurts. He feels so weary. He doesn’t have any energy left. He hasn’t for a while.

But he needs to get to Tubbo. He needs to get to his best friend.

His limbs feel cold. Blood still oozes from the gash in his chest, but the only thing that matters is Tubbo.

~~He’s not coming back from this, after all.~~

~~Does that even matter? What is even left for him anyways?~~

He starts pulling himself forward with his good arm, biting back the pained noises that threaten to spill from his lips as his injured arm drags across the ground.

His voice is quiet, too quiet, as he continues to speak to Tubbo. He can’t manage anything louder. “And then I wath- I was so _mean_ to you when I saw you again. I said tha’ the disks meant more than you ever did. Who fucking does that? I was a dick and a shit frien’ but for some reason you still wanned- you still wanted to talk to me afterwards and-” Tommy starts sobbing harder- “I rem’bered why you were my best frien’.”

He’s a foot away. His fingers are a foot away from Tubbo but his limbs won’t work anymore, _he can’t pull himself any closer._

“You were th’ _best fucking friend_ anyone could ask for,” Tommmy says. “And you still wanned ta be m’ frien’ afer everythin’ I did, afer all th’ hate I pushed at you, and how could I _not_ wan’ you back?”

His fingers scratch against the stone as he struggles to pull himself even just an _inch_ closer. Blood rubs off on the rough surface, staining the stone a rusty red.

“I wish I ha’ nev’r robbed tha’ damn hut.” The confession tumbles from his mouth. His words are impossibly quiet. It’s for Tubbo to hear, and only Tubbo. “I wisth I neva’ took th’ thuff, wish it never burned, ‘cause then mebe we wouldn't be in thi’ fukhin’ situation. ‘M thorry I did i’ Tubs. ‘M sorry, I regret it stho much, wish i nev’ did it ‘m so _s’rry._ ”

He’s so fucking close to Tubbo. His best friend’s hand is _right there,_ but _he can’t reach it._ He cries harder. Please please _please,_ he just wants to be with his best friend he missed him _so much_ he promised him he wouldn’t leave him again he’s just a little further _he needs to be next to his best friend._

He’s just out of reach and it has never hurt Tommy more.

And then Tubbo’s being lifted into the air and Tommy _screams,_ as loud as he can, again and again. ~~It’s only a little louder than a whimper.~~ Not Tubbo please give him back _please not Tubbo he can’t keep losing him._

Tubbo is placed in front of Tommy. Right in front of him. He’s set gently down and Tommy immediately latches onto his best friend’s hand and starts bawling. His shoulders shudder and the noises he makes are small and he _knows_ he’s fading quickly but it doesn’t matter because _Tubbo is in front of him he has Tubbo it’s going to be okay again._

Tommy holds his best friend’s hand tight. ~~His fingers barely flex.~~

Words tumbled out of his mouth, _thank you_ ’s and _‘I’m here, Tubbo’_ s and Tubbo’s names, over and over again because his best friend is _here._ They’re unintelligible as Tommy chants them. 

~~The words are barely a whisper as the life drains from Tommy’s body.~~

Tommy missed his best friend.

* * *

Two children were buried that day. They were buried away from the crater that had once been L’Manberg, away from the dictator that had once driven it into the ground, away from the hustle and bustle of the main areas.

They were buried at the bench. It was their own little piece of land, something so wholly _them_ that no one argued.

Dream was not allowed near. Not during the funeral, and not after. Not after he took Tommy’s last life, not after what he did to Tommy came to light.

Technoblade wasn’t allowed to the funeral, not after he destroyed L’Manberg and took Tubbo’s last life. But if anyone saw him there, months after the funeral, sitting quietly as he stared at the graves, no one argued.

Phil was not allowed at the funeral either. After the funeral, it was months before he showed. Longer than Technoblade. Whether it was from guilt or anger, not one knew. But when he did, flowers in one hand and a disk in the other, they left him alone.

The bench they were buried in front of was entwined with flowers. Ranboo maintained it, bringing a basket full of blooms with him whenever he stopped by. He would travel far to get there, having run with Fundy far away from the wars and trauma the SMP had brought. He took care in decorating the bench, making sure that the flowers would never wilt and crumble to pieces.

Beside the bench sat a jukebox. It always played a music disk, most often mellohi or cat. The songs played on loop, filling the air with gentle music. No matter if it were day or night, no matter what the weather was, music notes drifted through the air.

The valley below the cliffside had been cleared of builds. The river drifted lazily below and the forest beyond was untouched, brimming with trees. When the sun set, the view was breath-taking. The soft hues of the sunset would dance off the emerald leaves of the forest below, casting everything in a warm glow.

In front of the bench lay the graves. They were placed side by side, so that the two would never be separated again, even in death.

* * *

A boy- a teen, rather- with brown hair and blue eyes runs down a wooden path, a teen with blond hair of a similar age chasing him. The brown-haired teen laughs, jumping just out of reach of outstretched hands.

He gets chased into the Camarvan within black and yellow concrete walls. He manages to slam the door in the face of his best friend. His best friend lets out a stream of curses as he reels back, rubbing his nose. “Not fair!” he yells.

“Totally!” the brown-haired boy shoots back.

His best friend slams his fist on the button, opening the door, and he rolls out a window. The blond-haired teen curses again before following.

They run past the walls of L’Manberg, laughter ringing through the air.

Wilbur looks up from where he sat talking with Fundy. Fundy’s tail is curled around Wilbur, happy to be talking with his dad. The fox-hybrid’s ears perk up, turning to look at the two teens running past. He waves, and the brown-haired teen waves back as they rush by while his best friend flips him off.

“We talked about this!” Wilbur shouted after the blond-haired teen. He gets flipped off as well.

The brown-haired teen races off the path, and his best friend chases him through the trees. The brown-haired teen manages to get ahead, making tight turns and vaulting over fallen tree trunks.The blond-haired teen is less agile, cursing as he stumbles over roots and shouting for his best friend to “GET BACK HERE!”

“NOT A CHANCE!” is the reply as they run past a farm.

Technoblade looks up from his potatoes as the teens run past. He huffs, rolling his eyes even as he smiles. His ears twitch as they’re filled with the sound of laughter. He adjusts his straw hat, putting his hoe back to the soil.

The brown-haired teen speeds through the last of the trees, taking a flying leap into the river below. The sun is high in the sky, with few clouds to block the light. The summer air is warm, so the cool water of the river comes as a relief. The brown-haired teen is quick to swim to the opposite side of the river. His best friend is hot on his tail as he pulls himself out of the water and continues running.

They make their way past a bakery. The smell of bread wafts through the air. Niki is handing over bread to Eret, and Jack Manifold sits on a bench in front of the bakery, munching on a loaf of his own. They’re engaged in conversation, only stopping when the brown-haired boy tears through the middle of their little gathering. Niki scolds them, Eret laughs, and Jack sticks his tongue out at the blond-haired boy as he goes racing past.

They end up back on the wooden path again. They sprint up stairs, the blond-haired boy quickly gaining ground. He’s faster than his best friend in open spaces, with no obstacles to dodge. His best friend quickly counters this by darting into a nearby building, skidding around corners and chests as he dodges outstretched hands.

They run outside again, and there’s a whoosh of wind as Phil extends his wings, swooping in close to glide right above them.

“Having fun?” he calls down, laughter clear in his voice.

“He took my disk!” the blond-haired boy screeches.

“Nun-uh,” his best friend shouts. “You handed it to me when I said I wanted to look at it!”

“But I want it back dickhead!” The blond-haired boy pushes himself to run faster. His fingers brush against his best friend’s shirt before his best friend slips out of reach again, leaving him screeching in frustration.

The brown-haired boy slips back into the woods again, and his best friend huffs as he realizes he’s going to fall behind. They run until they hit a beach, slipping on the loose sand.

“You got this!” Ranboo shouts from his place beside Awesamedude. They’re chilling on an island in the middle of the bay. Awesamdude is in the middle of showing Ranboo one of his redstone contraptions.

Who Ranboo was talking to, neither of the teens know. The brown-haired teen claims the encouragement, shouting back, “Thanks!”

They run back into the woods, away from the beach. The brown-haired teen is panting hard, clearly running out of energy, but his best friend isn’t doing much better.

Finally, as the sun starts to touch the horizon, they collapse on a bench at the top of a cliff.

“Hand it over, Tubbo,” the blond-haired teen demands. He’s slumped in the bunch, but he manages to raise a hand, palm open, demanding the disk.

“Fine,” Tubbo huffs. “One of these days, Tommy. One of these days, I’m just gonna run off with one of your disks and you’re never gonna know.”

“Yeah right,” Tommy scoffs. “I’ll always know, bitch. Besides, most of them are stored in my enderchest. You can’t reach them anyways.”

“I guess.” Tubbo shrugs. 

He pulls out the disk, and dangles it above Tommy’s hand. Tommy makes a grab for it, and Tubbo jerks it out of reach, a grin on his face. Tommy makes a half-hearted grab for it and Tubbo leans away. He turns his attention from Tommy to the nearby jukebox and pops the disk in.

“Petty,” Tommy complains. Tubbo cackles.

The disk plays, and both boys relax. Tubbo scoots over so their shoulders are touching. Tommy rolls his eyes, calling him clingy, but Tubbo doesn’t miss how Tommy leans into the touch.

They stay there, enjoying the colors the sunset throws against the sky. The pinks and the oranges and the slowly darkening blues are breathtaking. They sit for a while, side by side, watching as the sun goes down and the stars appear in the sky.

They are, for the first time in a long, _long_ time, at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> For my friend reading this: :)
> 
> Anywho, yes, I am salty about c!Phil and his status as parent (c!phil is rlly not a good parent, he entered the server, killed one child, ran off with his war buddy and in the process left his other son to his fate at dreams hands, and then proceeded to blow up the nation his sons built and fought for to 'teach them a lesson') Ohhhh boy does it make for good angst tho. i wanna see more fics with dysfunctional sbi (lol ill probs write some at some point)
> 
> This was fun to write, I got the idea right after doomsday when everything just seemed impossibly hopeless bc characters were tearing into eachother and no one really trusted anyone and after tommy just came out of exile and tubbo got a verbal beatdown from dream after a rough presidency i was like hmmmm. doesn't really seem like it can go up from here. it only seems like they'll be happy when they're dead. So here we are :)
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed it!


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